


solidarity thy name is elvis

by fated_addiction



Category: K-pop, Mamamoo, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/F, Flash Fic, Romance, alternative universe, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fated_addiction/pseuds/fated_addiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In Vegas, they share a hotel suite. All of them. Everything is still kind of a blur.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Vegas or bust. Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	solidarity thy name is elvis

**Author's Note:**

> So lapslock warning. Or margarita warning. It's stupidly hot out too, so however you want to look at it. That's how it happened. 
> 
> For K, who, like, listens to me ramble about crazy things and my love for all things girl groups. Because I have a lot of love for girl groups. She is responsible for this lol. The margaritas were all me.

-

 

 

in vegas, they share a hotel suite.

all of them. everything is still kind of a blur.

"you're going to so ruin my game," hwasa says, pointing to wheein who, well, in turn, feels insanely betrayed. hwasa claims the only single room. "and by default, the idiots are the ones getting married in, like, six hours or three days aka whenever they're drunk enough to -" she points to the main bedroom, rolling her eyes when solar's laugh hits the closed door. "- to do this shit," hwasa finishes with an eye roll.

there is no elvis yet. instead, wheein faces a clumsy introduction to eric's stand-in best lady friend person because this is a spur of the moment decision and _of course_ , it's solar who decides she is going to marry her three week boyfriend. her name is moonbyul. she is in medical school, maybe.

"whatever, man," wheein mutters, sort of greets the woman next to her. she bows her head and tries not to notice how bright her eyes are.

this is a week long stay and she has to be nice.

 

 

 

 

 

wheein believes in love. sort of. it's kind of like this thing: she wanted to be a singer once, has a pretty voice, but like everything else in life, you learn to grow up and it's all kinds of painful and weird.

which is why solar is her best friend. because someone in her life should get to have the abrupt fairytales. she is genuinely happy for her. wants nothing more for solar to have all the puppies and kitties and what not. and since eric seems like a giant puppy, she supposes the universe is solidifying all of that.

"i've already had the talk," she tells moonbyul in the dark. the first night, the bed is hers. the sheets are kind of cold. she bought a sweatshirt in the gift shop. there is a beach in it. she should probably give it to her grandmother when she gets back.

"with eric?" moonbyul is amused. her voice is low and husky. it cracks at the end of each sentence she says. it's a weird, distinct quality that she likes. okay. she should probably relax with that too.

"with eric-ssi," she says politely. then laughs at herself in the dark, groaning. "we have the same broadcasting class," she says too. "we sit next to each other and i've been basically drawing all the ways i'm going to murder him if he hurts her all over his notebook."

"that was you?"

there is an answering laugh and wheein blushes, groaning a little. she pulls the sheets over her head. even though she really doesn't have to.

"that was me," she admits.

moonbyul's laugh is even lower. sleepy, maybe. 

"my hero," she says, and wheein flutters. just a little bit.

 

 

 

 

 

"right, so. veil."

hwasa has pool duty. solar and eric are wandering around the strip doing stupid tourist things because they would be the stupid tourist things. and since wheein moonlights as a personal assistant to pay her bills, she and moonbyul are charged with getting things done. including the veil. and making sure it's within a budget.

"except," moonbyul points out, standing next to her. "it's attached to a stripper pool."

wheein flushes. "we're on a budget." she ignores the large, glittering stripper pole in the middle of the store. "and there were no specifications other than -"

"you're cold," moonbyul teases, laughs, and then high fives her way into sort of holding her hand for a minute, dragging her to the register. "but i like it," she adds.

the store they found is somewhere between the hotel, the casino, and the wedding chapel they found - where not only elvis can marry you, but space ship!elvis can marry you too, complete with astronaut suites. wheein put her foot down on that decision, thinking about all the ways solar's mom is going to kill her, _actually_ kill her, and if she's going to go, space ship!elvis isn't going to be the deciding factor. no goddamn way.

but she also starts to notice things about moonbyul. which she kinda hates. it's not that this is romeo and juliet or something, but moonbyul sort of justifies the fact that she may have to like eric for bringing her alone, moral support or whatever. she's pretty too, funny in this weird, well, off-putting sort of way that wheein finds herself getting, like actually getting, which seems to make the corners of moonbyul's mouth turn into smiles.

"you're a good best friend," moonbyul pats the top of her head. then her arm drops over her shoulders and wheein guesses that somehow, this is the deciding factor.

"too good," she quips.

"the very best." moonbyul pokes her nose and wheein blushes. "a sap, i'd say too."

wheein groans. "you're on to me."

moonbyul only smiles, groping for her hand. it's the sort of gesture that makes wheein's heart swell to the point of bursting, even though she'll compensate with blaming the heat. or the fact that hwasa is on pool duty, probably texting hyuna or something stupid. somehow they make it to the register, suspicious stripper veil and all. budget, you know.

 

 

 

 

 

"you should sleep in the bed," wheein says in the dark. it's night three or something. as if this were the deciding factor. bro code, right? 

"go to sleep," moonbyul groans in the dark, and really, here she is trying to do something nice because all she's done is volunteer to take the floor the third time and wheein feels insanely guilty, guilty enough to be unable to sleep. not her fault. but she didn't want to argue. "m'fine," moonbyul mumbles.

"yeah but i'm _not_." she blurts it out. maybe too quickly. it's still easy to retreat, bury her face into her pillow with the silence, and hate herself. "get in here."

she's not sure she expected anything. but when she closes her eyes and grips the sheets with her nails she imagines things like moonbyul and her shiny crown of hair, long and whipped back as she emerges from the pool. moonbyul and feeling jealous because she sat next to hwasa. laughed at hwasa's jokes. then hating solar because she kicked her underneath the table since apparently she is forever obvious.

but then next to her, the sheets are pulled back. there's mumbling and the cool air of the room sinks goosebumps into her legs and knees. the bed drops somewhere behind her and she feels moonbyul roll forward, dropping her arm around her waist.

"warning," she murmurs into wheein's ear. her breath is hot. a little sticky. "i'm a habitual cuddle-er."

wheein's eyes are wide and awake. well, okay.

 

 

 

 

 

they buy dresses for the day. or try to.

d-day, hwasa tells them. she also buys eric a couple shots, grins serenely, and says, "you're so _fucked_ , dude -" since they all know solar's mom is going to eat him for breakfast. and then some. this is also midway into their "vacation" and after two days of cuddling; the latter part is just... what it is.

moonbyul seems okay to be dragged off with wheein. there's a dumb roommate joke in there somewhere, but it feels less like solidarity and more like a weird, weird date.

"is this too short?" wheein asks, pulling moonbyul into her dressing room. they get a look from the salesperson. but hey, this is margins better than the weird, uh, stripper place they went to get but not get solar's veil.

"erm -" moonbyul eyes her critically in the mirror. then sits because the room is impossibly small and maybe it's a little too comfortable, but they have been cuddling in bed for the last two nights. or something.

moonbyul reaches out though and wheein watches, a little fascinated, as she drags her fingers over the hem of her dress and then smoothes them over her thigh. a funny little feeling sort of twists in her belly then, drops and then crawls to stretch and flush against her throat.

"is it?" wheein swallows. her chest heaves forward and the thin straps on her shoulders start to slump. "i'm kind of annoyed already by it."

"i don't know." moonbyul's answer is careful and even. her thumb starts to press into her knee. she moves her fingers into small circles over her skin. "i'm thinking about it still."

wheein is husky. "need a minute?" she hates herself. _actual_ awkward flirting is the worst. "or two?"

"three actually." moonbyul presses her lips together and sort of thins herself into sighing. she shifts forward, closer to wheein's legs, then looks up and smiles. her fingers tug at the dress. "you look like you're dressing for someone."

"maybe," wheein croaks.

and she swears, swears there is no room to breathe in this stupid room because moonbyul won't back off. everything feels deliberate enough for wheein to bite the inside of her mouth, to try not to sigh, to try and hate solar a little because of course, _of course_ , this is all her goddamn fault.

her vision sort of blurs after that, just as moonbyul stands and gets into her face, her hand moving from her leg to her hip, her fingers curling into the flimsy fabric of her dress.

vegas is hot, after all. "i like it," moonbyul says.

 

 

 

 

the night wheein decides to lose count, moonbyul crawls into bed in only her underwear and a stupid excuse for a t-shirt.

"remind me to never drink with hwasa," she mutters, like the four, five of them are all weird best friends now. "it's an anomaly - how much she can drink."

wheein snorts. her palms are sweaty over the sheets. "she's been like that since high school." she tries not to be awkward and stressed. "she and i get competitive, but i usually end up losing and vomiting all over the place." she winces. "sexy right?"

moonbyul sort of laughs, doesn't answer. but turns. in the dark, wheein can watch the outline of the body next to her, watches and counts, like back when she was singing, the rise and fall of her chest, the sound pattern of her breathing. she does not know her well enough to know if she's sleeping; she imagines moonbyul with her eyes close, her lashes kissing the tops of her cheeks, hates that she's romantic but can't, like, stop because she's right next to her bed.

"are you sleeping?'

wheein can't recognize her voice in the dark. she feels a little terrified and indignant enough to poke her. there's a sigh and no response. she's sort of relieved.

"i think vegas is getting to me," she continues. maybe confesses. who knows. who cares - she probably should have drank more, but she's the one that has been blessed with the stomach of an eighty year old man.

this won't be the first time this trip she thinks about kissing moonbyul. slowly and deliberately, of course.

 

 

 

 

 

in the morning, wheein wakes up first.

moonbyul has a leg between hers. solar opens the door quietly but without knocking, then jerks back with a grin and an air apology and it's weird how this is all easy to just sort of accept. she isn't panicking. 

this is usually how she knows she's screwed.

 

 

 

 

 

elvis proclaims them man and wife and hwasa gives the toast before dinner, calls solar "yongie!!" and then points to moonbyul and wheein, finger gun and a curse: "you're next," she says and that is that.

dinner and alcohol is really a blur, mostly because everyone is trying to ignore the lovey-dovey vibes the newlyweds are trying to enjoy before they all fly home and to their deaths. wheein manages to escape to the pool, mostly because she'll probably be tempted to gamble since she feels like a black hole with feelings.

you're pragmatic, she tells herself. which is stupid. like the dress that she's wearing. it's flimsy and blue and looked really pretty under the lights in the dress room - _not_ because of moonbyul and her hand right there, right on her thigh.

"ugh," she mutters and drops her legs into the pool water. there's no one around, thank god. because there is a private party and most of the pool is closed off. she's glad because she feels stupid. hates that she feels stupid because she is the world's greatest best friend ever™ and should at least get some kind of plague and _not_ deal with her stupid, hormonal feelings.

a hand drops on her shoulder. she looks up and moonbyul's face is in hers, her hair spilling front of them like a curtain.

"hey."

"spiderman kiss?" she half-blurts, then groans and wishes for the taste of alcohol.

moonbyul laughs. it's a bright sound. "do i have time for a breath check?"

"i'm sure your breath is just fine," she mumbles. she pokes moonbyul's nose. "margarita breath isn't entirely awful, you know. like it's fruity and irresponsible, but -"

wheein doesn't even have time to be funny because moonbyul's mouth presses awkwardly into hers. this isn't like the movies: margarita breath is sort of rancid, but she's going with it, you know, and what helps is when moonbyul's tongue flips onto hers, rolls over it, and then sighs back onto her lip. they break apart awkwardly, for a short period of time, so that moonbyul can sit.

but then they end up in the pool.

it doesn't matter how: moonbyul's hand is laced through wheein's and they both half-fall into the water, maybe dive, but it'll depend, later, who has to explain all of this. moonbyul doesn't let her think though; she's pressed against the wall before she can even breathe, moaning when moonbyul curls a hand around her bare hip under the water. their dresses are floating above their hips and wheein slides a leg between moonbyul's, kisses with her teeth and likes how moonbyul responds and growls. it feels a little like leveling the playing field. this feels like a kiss. her heart is going to explode in her throat and when she breathes into moonbyul's mouth, moonbyul sighs and tugs her closer.

oh god.

wheein finds her hair matted to her face when moonbyul pulls back, not away, gripping her entirely too close.

"i don't do this," she confesses quietly. "you know - sporadic things. it goes against my nature or whatever."

wheein laughs breathlessly. "makes two of us."

"damn."

the feeling of bare, wet skin makes wheein breathe a little harder then too. she's dizzy and the alcohol is forgotten. maybe this is about her feelings. maybe not.

"should we -" moonbyul pauses, then drags herself over wheein, her fingers dusting over her thigh, underneath her dress. "i don't know... not be wet anymore?"

vegas is about odds, right? it seems cheesy and corny and maybe full of regret. if anything, wheein decides, she'll just blame eric and solar because that is, in fact, the right thing to do - and hwasa will have her back. solidarity or whatever.

"probably," wheein breathes, and then they are sliding out of the pool, together, fingers laced together. 

this isn't the hunger games either, she thinks.

 

 

 

 

 

wheein means it. she is secretly-not-so-secretly an eighty year old man.

it was her job to remember to take some sort of photographic proof that their two best friends are married. legally binding, stateside or whatever. but she can't even begin to think about it with moonbyul's tongue down her throat.

and, like, these are kisses - toe curling kisses that make wheein regret every single date and relationship she's had since the tender age of twelve, right down to the hand holding and awkward pecks. she hates feeling this romantic: but everything inside her burns when moonbyul kisses, crawls under her skin and sings _you're alive you're alive you're alive_ which is pretty terrifying to think about it.

they don't really do anything beyond that. moonbyul's fingers keep moving to her hair, stroking her face, rubbing her hips, and wheein slides a leg between moonbyul's because she likes that low, lazy sound she makes in the back of her throat. because that's hers. she's decided that it is. even though it's a little scary to think about.

there are no give backs.

 

 

 

 

 

at the airport, hwasa buys her a coffee and a donut. fact: wheein doesn't share her donuts. with, like, anyone.

"solar's mom is going to kill us," she comments, then watches as moonbyul breaks off a piece of wheein's donut. the newlyweds are somewhere in their airport, probably buying matching sweatshirts again. "like take us out to the beach and then drown us, one by one."

"probably," she agrees.

hwasa shrugs and points her coffee at moonbyul. "you must be stuck with her," she tells the other woman. "because wheein so doesn't share her sugary crap. at all."

"this must be our first date then," moonbyul answers, pushing at wheein's hair, tucking it behind her ear and oh god, this is really happening. but there's icing in the corner of moonbyul's mouth and it's just not practical to get up, when she's comfortable, to grab a napkin.

wheein leans in and kisses to swallow moonbyul's laugh. she licks away at the icing and of course, she can always go and blame vegas. since she'll probably be doing that a lot as it is.

hwasa's nose wrinkles still. 

"all of you are gross," she says.


End file.
